


Original Sin

by tamibrandt



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Dark fic, Emotional Abuse, F/M, Mental Anguish, Mental Disintegration, Mental Torture, Minor Character Death, Torment, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-02-15
Updated: 2007-02-15
Packaged: 2017-11-05 02:13:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/401320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tamibrandt/pseuds/tamibrandt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rating – NC-17<br/>Pairing – Angel(us)/Drusilla, Implied-Angelus/Darla)<br/>Timeline – BTVS S3 AMENDS, missing scene.<br/>Summary – AR. Takes place during AMENDS. Angel is haunted by Drusilla. A fresh, new, darkly erotic, and compelling look at how Angelus tormented Drusilla. He saw a butterfly, a gem of innocence and virginity, with the gift of Sight, and made his ambition to mold her. He took away everything she loved, her family, her innocence, her sanity, her life, and she was reborn . . .<br/>WARNINGS: Mental Torture, Torment, Anguish, Minor Character Deaths, Violence, Dark Fic dealing with mental/emotional disintegration.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

Title: Original Sin  
By Tami (tabrandt @ hotmail.com)  
Disclaimer: The characters from ATS / BTVS are owned by Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and Fox studios. This story is not meant to infringe upon anyone's rights, only to entertain.  
BETA: Myself, [](http://lexa4227.livejournal.com/profile)[**lexa4227**](http://lexa4227.livejournal.com/) , [](http://sevendeadlyfun.livejournal.com/profile)[**sevendeadlyfun**](http://sevendeadlyfun.livejournal.com/)  
Rating – NC-17  
Pairing – Angel(us)/Drusilla, Implied-Angelus/Darla)  
Timeline – BTVS S3 AMENDS, missing scene.  
Summary – AR. Takes place during AMENDS. Angel is haunted by Drusilla. A fresh, new, darkly erotic, and compelling look at how Angelus tormented Drusilla. He saw a butterfly, a gem of innocence and virginity, with the gift of Sight, and made his ambition to mold her. He took away everything she loved, her family, her innocence, her sanity, her life, and she was reborn . . .  
Feedback – It would be appreciated. My plot bunny has been lagging lately.  
Author's Note - This fic wouldn't been possible if it wasn't for the encouragement and support of two wonderful women and great friends, [](http://kidcyclone.livejournal.com/profile)[**kidcyclone**](http://kidcyclone.livejournal.com/) and [](http://users.livejournal.com/woman_of_/profile)[**woman_of_**](http://users.livejournal.com/woman_of_/) , and my wonderful betas [](http://kateyes085.livejournal.com/profile)[**kateyes085**](http://kateyes085.livejournal.com/) , [](http://lexa4227.livejournal.com/profile)[**lexa4227**](http://lexa4227.livejournal.com/) and [](http://sevendeadlyfun.livejournal.com/profile)[**sevendeadlyfun**](http://sevendeadlyfun.livejournal.com/).  
WARNINGS: Mental Torture, Torment, Anguish, Minor Character Deaths, Violence, Dark Fic dealing with mental/emotional disintegration.  
Word Count: 6,582

##  _Part 1_

  
  
**_Crawford Street Mansion, December 24, 1998_**  
  
It felt strange to be back. It was as if he was in a dream, and this mansion and Sunnydale were just an illusion, something that his tormentors in Acathla’s Hell had conjured up to tease him. It was harsh and painful to be here. When he had arrived, fallen would be the better term, onto the cold stone floor it was a shock to his senses. Raw nerves tingled under his skin.  
  
He couldn’t believe that he had survived Hell and was thrown out for his valor. Was it valor to endure a grotesque version of yourself twisting your wretched and cursed soul? God, he had wanted to lose that soul so bad, if only to be able to fight back. Why was it given to him moments, even seconds before the love of his undead life plunged a sword into his gut, only to be sucked into a black and red abyss? All the despair and blood, even when he was Angelus, he had never seen so much blood.  
  
It was so hot there too. It was starting to get suffocating. His skin had blistered constantly. He would never burn though. Vampires should dust when they smolder, right? But, he never did. He just suffered through the searing heat. Only to be thrown out of there and into the cold world with its damp air and icy floor. It probably wasn’t like that to someone who was acclimated to the weather. But, after Acathla’s Hell? It was damn near Antarctic temperatures.  
  
No matter how much he acted like he was fine around Buffy, Giles and the rest of her troupe, he wasn’t. He still had nightmares of Hell. They weren’t like his killing dreams of before. These dreams consisted of more blood, rivers of it. He thought he’d drown in his own dreams from it. Everything was a red haze in his dreams. They left him shivering under the blankets.  
  
He could still feel the instruments they had used on him. He thought that at one point they were trying to re-enact the Greek myth of Prometheus bound to a rock with buzzards eating at his liver every day. Instead of buzzards, meat hooks scratched his blistered flesh into raw wounds. Everything that was done to him was used to balance the scale for all the pain he had caused as Angelus.  
  
Then, he was thrust out and dropped onto the frigid floor exactly where the stone statue of Acathla had once sat. He was still in defense mode. After 100 years of torture and pain, he was well past the use of human speech. He could only growl and snarl.  
  
Being dropped into this icy version of a new torment brought hunger. He had refused to drink the blood in Hell. But, hunger wasn’t an issue there, not when survival was so important. When he came back, he was so hungry. His hunger is what brought him into contact with Buffy again. If he could have stifled it, she never would have known he was back. Instead, he went out hunting. The soul had been quiet ever since the first tortures started and hadn’t reasserted its tenuous hold on his demon yet, which allowed him to hunt without qualm. That’s when she found him.  
  
It hurt to see her again. Seeing her reminded him of the woman who had sent him to Hell in the first place. She didn’t even register as Buffy, the woman he loved, when he first saw her. She was the enemy at that moment, and she kept his existence a secret from her friends and watcher.  
  
All of that was water under the bridge compared to his newest torment.  
  
Now, not only was he dreaming of his past kills, but they had somehow manifested into reality and haunted him when he was awake. They came to him in the form of the bridegroom who had stiffed Angelus of a few bucks, the maid of a well-to-do Irish family, the distinguished businessman whom Angelus took pleasure in gifting with the cold, dead corpses of his entire family, Giles’ girlfriend, Jenny Calendar and his sister Kathy.  
  
He had brought pain and death to each of their lives when he was soulless. He dreamed about what he had done to each and every one of them. They were so clear, right down to the scents in the air. He always woke up in cold sweats and shaking, with a feeling of anxiety rushing through him. Vampires weren’t supposed to get cold sweats, were they?  
  
He climbed out of bed and stumbled to the grand living room. Falling down on the hearth, he shivered against the cold air in the drafty mansion. He rubbed his arms as if that would warm him as it would a human, and gave the room a cursory paranoid once over.  
  
As he set about making a fire in the huge inglenook, he noted that the dreams of his victims were much better than those from his time in Hell. There wasn’t the mass amount of blood in his victim-dreams for one thing.  
  
After building the fire up, he leaned against the side of the hearth, resting his head against the stone surface, and watched the flames dance.  
  
Why had they let him return? Why did they let him come back to this place if only to torment him with dreams? What was the purpose? He was supposed to be in Hell receiving a great deal of punishment for what he had done when he was evil. He had accepted that. It’s what he wanted, right? It’s what he needed to cleanse his soul of his own damnation.  
  
Just then, a breeze flittered past his cheek and caused him to scan the room with paranoid eyes. _God, not again. Please! I can’t take anymore tonight. I don’t want to see anymore. You’ve shown me enough._   
  
He shook his head jerkily as he leaned against the hearth and muttered repeatedly, “No more, please. No more.”  
  
A feather-light touch caressed his cheekbone. If he wasn’t so fearful he would have passed it off as another breeze.  
  
“Shh, Daddy. It’s just me,” a voice whispered near his ear.  
  
He turned and looked with wide eyes as the apparition of Drusilla sat beside him. He startled in surprise. It seemed like years – not months – had gone by since he had last seen her.  
  
“You aren’t Drusilla,” he whispered as he stared at her in horror.  
  
The apparition pouted. “Daddy, you wound me so. I thought you cared about me, that I was your little girl.”  
  
“ _You are not Drusilla_ ,” he stressed as he tried to back away from her only to hit the stone wall of the hearth. “You’re just playing with my head again. All the victims you chose to assume tonight and you— No! No! You aren’t her! You’re too sane to be her. Why are you doing this to me?”  
  
“Don’t you see, my Angel? Isn’t it clear enough to you?” the apparition asked clearly.  
  
“See what?” he shuddered despite the heat.  
  
“You don’t belong, not to yourself, not to her, you belong to me,” the apparition said.  
  
“I belong to no one,” he countered. He stood up, stumbled over to the couch and sat down heavily.  
  
The apparition followed him as it glided over the stone floor and sat beside him. “I saw it in my vision when I first saw you. Do you remember when Grand-mummy pointed me out to you?”  
  
“It was so long ago,” he said as he shook his head in denial.  
  
“Yet, you remember every detail. I knew why you wanted me. Though, I don’t think I posed too much of a challenge for you,” the apparition said.  
  
The reasoning that he was in the presence of a ghost and not his demented childe had left him. It was too much work for his mind to separate them. “You were beautiful, fragile, sweet, chaste . . . pure. You glowed with wholesome innocence and I took pleasure in the knowledge that it would be easy to break you.”  
  
The apparition rested her head on his shoulder as she listened to him talk. “Do you remember what you did?”  
  
He shuddered. He didn’t know how she was able to touch him. It wasn’t a touch of hard bone so much as a weighted pressure on his shoulder. His Drusilla wasn’t very big to begin with so it felt like a small bird resting on his shoulder. Why was she trying to make him remember? He knew exactly what he had done to her. How she was today was a testament to his expert abilities of psychological torture, so why bring it to the surface?  
  
**************************  
  
 ** _London, March, 1860_**  
  
 _Angelus walked down the street filled with horse-drawn carriages and people dressed in regency clothing. He was about to pass the mouth of an alley when he stopped and turned down into it. He held out his hand, and a woman took it and let him help her up._  
  
 _“I thought we were meeting in the Square,” Angelus mused as Darla stepped out of the darkness._  
  
 _“I ran into Lord Nichols – horrid little man,” Darla commented derisively as she looked over her shoulder at a body lying on the ground with bite marks in his neck. She turned back to Angelus. “He was propositioning a street walker and dickering over the price. Can you imagine? I told him I’d do him for nothing.”_  
  
 _“You’re very charitable,” Angelus commented as he glanced at the body and noticed the dead prostitute beside him._  
  
 _Darla delicately dabbed at her mouth with a handkerchief. “I so loathe cheap royalty.”_  
  
 _Angelus leaned in and licked the blood residue off her lips. “They all taste the same to me.”_  
  
 _Darla moaned softly. “My boy does have the touch.”_  
  
 _Angelus nuzzled against her. “Darla?”_  
  
 _“Mm, yes?” she asked innocently._  
  
 _“Why’d you kill the street walker?”_  
  
 _Darla glanced at the dead woman. “Oh. I just liked her. Guess what’s next?” She smiled as they left the mouth of the alley and walked along the street._  
  
 _“What is it?” Angelus inquired._  
  
 _Darla’s smile turned coy. “It’s a surprise. You have to guess.”_  
  
 _Angelus scanned the street and finally spotted a family with three young daughters coming out of a dress shop. He smiled and glanced between Darla and the girls. “Three daughters – all virgins.”_  
  
 _“Close,” Darla hedged as she watched her childe with delight._  
  
 _Angelus examined each girl in turn. He sensed all three were certainly pure, but there was one that was different from the others. “The one in the middle has something delicate and unique . . . Did you find me a saint?”_  
  
 _Darla leaned closer and whispered, “Better than that, darling. She has the Sight.”_  
  
 _The girl in question turned revealing herself to be an ethereal beauty with rich, dark hair and big, dark blue eyes. She looked straight into Angelus’ eyes._  
  
 _Angelus licked his lips like a hungry wolf. “Visions. She sees the future.” He took off at a stroll, walking toward the girl with Darla clinging to his arm. “She is pure innocence, yet she sees what’s coming. She knows what I’m going to do to her. I’ll really have to come up to snuff for this one.”_  
  
 _The girl’s eyes widened as the couple drew closer. She turned away and quickly herded her sisters away. Darla put a hand on Angelus’ chest to stop him from following the girl._  
  
 _“Down, boy! Let the plum ripen,” Darla commanded._  
  
 _Angelus stopped and stared down at his Sire. “You always come up with something new.”_  
  
 _“Keeps me young,” Darla said as she walked away, leaving him to watch the girl scurry away with her family._  
  
 _Angelus watched the girl disappear and then followed his Sire back to their hotel. As he walked among the natives, he thought about the young girl and tried to devise the best way to deal with her. It wouldn’t be quick like his other meals, for she wouldn’t be just any plaything. She was unique, special. He had to come up with something different for her._  
  
 _Instead of turning down the street that led to the hotel, Angelus went in the opposite direction and doubled back to where they had last seen the girl. He stood still in front of the dress shop and scented the air. The smell of sun-kissed peaches and lavender filled his nose and he followed it. He walked through a park to a two-storey house with a terrace and decorative trellises along the sides._  
  
 _Climbing a trellis to the second floor, he walked along the terrace roof until he pinpointed the scent to a bedroom and peeked inside. Angelus placed his fingertips on the glass and watched silently as the girl moved around her bedroom preparing to retire for the night._  
  
 _She sat at her carved vanity and brushed her hair out before braiding it. Then, she stood up and walked gracefully to her closet. She pulled off her housedress and slipped her pristine nightgown on over her chemise and pantaloons. Crawling into bed, she blew out a candle on the bedside table, pulled the covers to her chin and went to sleep. Angelus watched her for a good hour before he climbed down the trellis and disappeared into the night._  
  
**************************  
  
 ** _Crawford Street Mansion, December 24, 1998_**  
  
Angel shivered as he remembered following Drusilla back to her home. He remembered seeing her in her bedroom, getting ready for bed with the thought that she was safe and sound inside her little house. It was after that night, he decided to risk the deadly sun and follow her during the day, learning her routine from the shadows.  
  
“Do you remember?” the apparition asked.  
  
“Yes. I remember,” he replied regretfully.  
  
“How long did it take for you to memorize my daily life?”  
  
As she asked the question, she skimmed her manicured nails along his cheek, but all he felt was a cool breeze brush his skin.  
  
“Not long, a week at most. Your visions sent you to confession nearly every day. I would follow you in the shadows. I’d watch your house at night. I would watch you sleep from the window,” Angel said softly.  
  
“Do you remember how you gained access to the house?” the apparition asked.  
  
“There was another sister, younger than the rest. She didn’t accompany you to the dress shop that night. I tricked her into allowing me to cross the threshold,” Angel admitted as he slid to the floor at the First-Drusilla’s feet.  
  
He stared at her red velvet slippers. His Drusilla loved to wear velvet slippers, like the kind that resembled the shoes of a ballerina. She always wanted to be a ballerina, even ate a few as he recalled. She wore long formless dresses acting the child that she was mentally. But, underneath the clothes, she was all womanly curves. Nicely rounded breasts, tiny waist, gently flared hips and slim thighs. He groaned inwardly as he remembered how well her legs wrapped around his waist when he took her.  
  
A breeze sifted through his hair as the Drusilla-apparition ran her fingers through it. “Go on,” she urged.  
  
“Once I gained access to the house, I would sneak into your bedroom and watch you sleep. I went through your belongings to learn your name,” Angel continued.  
  
“What was my human name?”  
  
Angel stared into the flames in the hearth as he tried in vain to remember Drusilla’s human name. “It’s always been Drusilla. When I made you, I kept it that way. I never renamed any of my childer.”  
  
“Then, what did you do?”  
  
“I spent most of my time watching you. I wasn’t starving, but I didn’t feel the need to feed either. I knew that anything else would taste like ashes next to the blood of a virgin. So, I waited and relished the thought of what your sisters would taste like. I was sated on the plans I made to defile them. But, it wasn’t about them necessarily. They were a means to an end. They were pawns to use in driving you just that much further over the edge. I knew you’d know what would happen, that you’d see it in a vision. I knew from the times I followed you that you went to St. Mark’s Catholic Church. I went in and killed the clergy. I was busy killing a priest when you entered the adjacent confessional box. You surprised me at first, but then I seized upon on it as the perfect opportunity to play with you,” Angel said still staring into the fire.  
  
**************************  
  
 ** _London, April, 1860_**  
  
 _Drusilla scurried through the abbey into the nave. She slowed down when she got there and walked behind the pews toward the confessional booths. Before entering, she faced the altar, knelt down and crossed herself. She looked up at the altar briefly before standing again and going into one of the booths. As she stepped through the curtain, an arm juts out of the adjacent booth where the priest awaits. The arm was quickly pulled back as quickly as it appeared. Inside the booth, Drusilla sat down and pulls her shawl from her head._  
  
 _“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned,” Drusilla said in greeting._  
  
 _Angelus was caught off guard by the sound of the voice of the girl he’d been following for weeks. He dropped the dead priest and listened intently._  
  
 _“It’s been two days since my last confession,” Drusilla was saying._  
  
 _Not knowing how to respond, Angelus remained quiet._  
  
 _“Father?” Drusilla inquired when she didn’t get an answer._  
  
 _Angelus shook off his surprise, deciding it was best to fall into character. It was a way to gain her trust and in the long run, a way in which he could break her. It was the opportunity he had been hoping for in the past few weeks._  
  
 _Clearing his throat, he spoke deeply, “That's not very long.”_  
  
 _Satisfied that she was answered, Drusilla resumed her confession in a trembling voice. “Oh, Father, I'm so afraid.”_  
  
 _Angelus took a moment to relish the fear in her voice. The scent of it wafted through the lattice grate separating them. It tasted delicious on his tongue. He leaned closer to the grate and urged her to continue._  
  
 _“The Lord is very forgiving. Tell me your sins.”_  
  
 _“I had . . .” Drusilla took a deep breath to calm herself. “I've been seeing again, Father. Yesterday, the men were going to work in the mine. I had . . .” She shuddered as she tried to explain, “a terrible fright.” She drew a trembling breath. “My stomach is all tied up, and I saw this horrible . . . crash.” She calmed down a bit. “My Mummy said to keep my peace, it didn't mean anything. But, this morning . . . they had a cave-in. Two men died.”_  
  
 _“Go on,” Angelus urged._  
  
 _“Me Mum says . . . I’m cursed.” Drusilla exhaled a breath. “My seeing things are an affront to the Lord,” she inhaled a sob, “that only He's supposed to see anything before it happens.” She started sobbing. “But, I don't mean to, Father, I swear!” She inhaled shakily. “I swear!” Tears pricked her eyes as she started to cry. “I try to be pure in His sight. I don't want to be an evil thing,” she sobbed._  
  
 _“Oh, hush, child,” Angelus cooed. “The Lord has a plan for all creatures, even a Devil child like you.”_  
  
 _Drusilla was taken aback by the priest’s words. “A Devil?”_  
  
 _Angelus smirked at the fright in her voice. The scent of it became more delectable as it grew stronger. “Yes! You’re a spawn of Satan. All the Hail Marys in the world aren’t going to help. The Lord will use you and smite you down. He’s like that.”_  
  
 _Drusilla clenched fistfuls of her dress and asked in a frightened voice, “What can I do?”_  
  
 _Angelus leaned closer to the grate and seductively said, “Fulfill His plan, child. Be evil. Just give in.”_  
  
 _Drusilla shook her head erratically in denial and sobbed, “No! I want to be good. I want to be pure!”_  
  
 _Angelus nodded thoughtfully. “We all do . . . at first. The world doesn’t work that way.”_  
  
 _Drusilla pressed her face against the grate and sobbed louder. “Father . . . I beg you . . . Please . . . Please, help me.”_  
  
 _Angelus sighed dramatically. “Very well. Ten Our Fathers and an act of contrition. Does that sound good?”_  
  
 _Drusilla sighed in relief. “Yes. Yes, Father. Thank you.”_  
  
 _“The pleasure was mine,” Angelus whispered. “And my child . . .” He called out as he raised his hand to the lattice grate between them._  
  
 _“Yes?” Drusilla answered expectantly._  
  
 _Angelus stared at her as he silently fed off her fear. “God is watching you,” he warned._  
  
 _Drusilla crossed herself anxiously and hurried out of the confessional._  
  
 _Angelus sat back and listened to her repent her visions and beg God to forgive and to protect her. He stayed where he was until he heard her soft footsteps leave the church. Once she was gone, he stepped out of the booth, leaving the dead priest propped up inside and exited the building under the cover of shadows._  
  
 _He went back to the hotel and whiled away the rest of the day deliberating over his next plan. When nightfall came, he was at her window again watching her in a restless sleep. He smiled at the thought that he was probably the cause of it. His words inside the confessional had struck a chord with her. He had planted the seeds of worry inside her. Worry that she was evil for having the visions that were beyond her control and the doubt that she could ever be good._  
  
 _He watched her toss and turn in her bed, clutching her rosary beads. She was moaning softly as she tried to escape whatever was in her dream. After a while, he climbed down, went to another side of the house and climbed the trellis to the second storey balcony. He pressed against the pane and the window opened inward. He climbed inside and examined the room carefully._  
  
 _The room belonged to Drusilla’s sister, Anna. The pale blonde girl lay snug in her bed, her brow unmarred by dreams such as those that plagued Drusilla. She was indeed a blonde beauty. He couldn’t decide what to do to her first: rape her or drain her._  
  
 _Knowing it had to be a quick death, something that wasn’t expected. It had to be something that would surprise those who knew her, but also cause Drusilla even more grief. He couldn’t take pleasure in killing this first victim. It had to be a shocking death._  
  
 _Resigned to that conclusion, Angelus moved swiftly. He sat on the edge of the bed and held his hand over her mouth. She awoke immediately when she felt the hand and stared at him in wide-eyed fear. He leaned closer to her and scented the delectable aroma before shifting to his demon and striking._  
  
 _Just as he had fantasized, Angelus became hard at the taste of virgin blood. But, he also tasted age and the wisdom that went with it. She was older than Drusilla by a couple of years at most. But, she was an ordinary girl. She wasn’t plagued by horrific visions like his Drusilla. There wasn’t a twinge of madness in her blood, just the sweetness of virgin and wheat taste of young girl._  
  
 _Once she was drained, Angelus arranged her like an adjustable doll and left her lying with her hand curled under her chin and the covers drawn up over her shoulders. The position effectively covered the bite mark so that no one would instantly notice it come morning. Then, he went to her dresser and sifted through the dresses. He found a black lace dress, something that wasn’t normally worn by a proper woman. Angelus grinned evilly. So, this sister had a bit of a wanton streak in her. He pulled the dress out and laid it over the end of her bed with great care._  
  
 _He pulled back the covers again, revealing the girl’s body. Then, he pulled off her white nightgown. He took a moment to ogle her nude body, her breasts were a little on the small side for his tastes. Realizing what he was doing, he never thought of himself as a breast-man before. He stood above her and pondered that thought for a moment. Generally, he was all-woman kind of guy. It never mattered what they looked like as long as they had the appropriate holes in all the right places. He never zoned in one particular part of the anatomy. Huh. Darla’s influence must be rubbing off him lately. Now **there** was a woman with more than enough flesh, slim in all the right places, but full and firm in others. Angelus shrugged it off and returned to his task of dressing the dead girl in the black dress he had set aside. Once everything was to set up to his satisfaction, he left out the window as silently as he arrived and closed it behind him._  
  
**************************  
  
 ** _Crawford Street Mansion, December 24, 1998_**  
  
“ _You_ killed my sister,” the apparition sneered. “She was sweet and innocent and you murdered her so callously and then left her there for us find.” She moved closer and whispered in Angel’s ear, “But, you’re more than a murderer aren’t you? You’re more than just a killer.”  
  
The specter of Drusilla straddled his hips, yet he felt no body weight. She looked straight at him with those dark blue doe eyes. She leaned closer until her lips barely touched his and whispered, “You’re not like any other demon. You were born to surpass human killing; become legendary in the art of it. A master torturer is what you are.”  
  
Angel shook his head frantically in denial, “I have a soul now. I can be good. I can do good. Repent for my sins.”  
  
The phantom laughed in Drusilla’s tinkling way. “Do you really think you can repent for what you did to her? She’s too far gone to forgive you. You’ve made sure of that.”  
  
“I didn’t have a soul then!” Angel sobbed.  
  
“You are a fool if you think you can be any different now. The demon is still inside you. You’ll never be free of it, just as you’ll never be free of the memories,” the spirit stated.  
  
“You left my sister’s decaying corpse in her bed for me to find in the morning.” The apparition was back to referring to its disguise in first person. “You didn’t even wait until the earth had hardened over her grave before you went after another victim.”  
  
As Angel rose up off the floor, the apparition disappeared. When he walked swiftly to the atrium, the ghost of Drusilla appeared before him again, blocking his path.  
  
“Why are you doing this? Why did you bring me back if all you’re going to do is torment me? I _know_ . . . what I’ve done . . . to you and others. I can’t ask forgiveness for it! I haven’t got the right to do that. I don’t know what you want from me! I can’t offer you anything!” Angel yelled at her.  
  
“I’m not trying to take anything from you, Daddy. I would never do that.” Ghost-Drusilla raised her hand as if to caress his cheek, but again all he felt was a light breeze. “Shh, Daddy. You have to finish the story. Come on,” she said urged as she turned and sat on the couch again and patted the seat beside her. “Come; tell me what you did next.”  
  
**************************  
  
 ** _London, April, 1860_**  
  
 _Drusilla woke in fright from the nightmare that plagued her for most of the night. The dream worried her so, that she slid out of bed, wrapped a wool robe around herself and hurried to her sister’s room. She skidded to halt in the open doorway. There Anna lay looking almost peaceful._  
  
 _Drusilla knocked softly before she entered the room and rounded the bed. She sat beside her sister’s sleeping form and reached over to shake her awake. When she did, the blonde head rolled to the opposite side, revealing two rows of bite marks on her neck. Drusilla touched her sister’s arm feeling the cold and clammy skin. Anna had been dead for some time._  
  
 _Drusilla covered her mouth and backed away against the wall as she stared in horror at the sight. Anna looked almost picturesque laying there. Her mind refused to process the scene. She didn’t understand how this could have happened. She had seen her sister just before they retired for the night._  
  
 _Drusilla blinked and realized her Mum was in the room crying. She didn’t remember when her Mummy had arrived or that she had screamed and alerted the whole house as to what happened. She was still staring at her sister in shock._  
  
 _“Mummy! I saw this in my dream last night,” Drusilla said quietly from her position of trying to sink into the wall._  
  
 _Her mother looked up with sorrowful eyes. “Now is not the time for your devil’s sight. You are not to speak of it in this house. It’s a sin. You say you saw your sister’s death in a dream? Did you cause this? Was it you that killed her with your cursed thoughts?” Her mother asked accusingly._  
  
 _“No, Mummy! I didn’t cause this. ’Tis something else, not me!” Drusilla sobbed. “I can’t control what I see.”_  
  
 _Drusilla watched her Mum grieve for a moment before she left the room. She dressed quickly and grabbed her shawl on the way out the door. As she made her way to the church, she tried to make sense of her jumbled thoughts. In her dream, she had cried out to Anna as a beast grabbed her and killed her in front of Drusilla’s eyes. Then, she woke to find her sister’s lifeless body. Was her Mum right? Was she the cause of Anna’s death? But then, her Mum thought she was cursed by the Devil with having the visions. Even the priest said she was a devil child yesterday. Why was God punishing her with these visions? She never asked for them, but she’d had them for as long as she could remember._  
  
 _Entering St. Mark’s Catholic Church, she knelt and crossed herself, paying respect at the altar before going to the confessional booth. Over the last ten years, she had become familiar with this place._  
  
 _Drusilla trembled as she sat down to wait for the window to open. How to explain something like this to the Father? The men in the mine were one thing. She didn’t know them; only saw them in a vision. But, Anna was her sister, flesh and blood kin._  
  
 _“Back so soon, child?” the deep voice from yesterday broke into her thoughts._  
  
 _“Oh, Father! It has been a day since my last confession. I had a vision-dream. It was terrible!” Drusilla started to stutter in her fright. “I-I-I saw my sister, Anna, grabbed by an unknown b-b-beast. He k-k-killed her right in front of me!” She inhaled deeply to recover her wits before they spilled out all over the floor and went on, “This morning when I woke . . . I went to check on her. She was dead! Me Mum says that my visions are what killed her. I didn’t mean to, Father! I swear!”_  
  
 _“How do you not know that you did not kill her subconsciously? Mayhap, you were sleep walking and committed the act,” the Father suggested._  
  
 _“But, there was no blood on my clothes!” Drusilla insisted through tears. “I would never do anything to hurt Anna!” Drusilla gripped her fingers in the latticework of the window and cried harder. “Please, Father! You have to help me! Please, I want to be saved! I don’t want this Sight. I want to be pure!”_  
  
 _“It’s too late. What has been given cannot be taken back. Your soul has made a deal with the Devil and you must stand by it. All I can offer you now is advice. Go back to your mother and tell her you’re sorry,” the Father said._  
  
 _“Yes, Father,” Drusilla sobbed softly._  
  
 _When she left the confessional, Angelus had a wide, sinister grin on his face. The poor girl was so confused. She was starting to slowly lose her mind. As far as she knew, her visions aided the death of her sister. This was proving to be very interesting. He’d never contributed to the systematic destruction of a human before. The people in Liam’s life were as sinful as he was. As Angelus, he had killed a lot of people: men, women, and children, whole families murdered and propped up like dolls in their houses to be found by their loved ones._  
  
 _All of that was well and good when ravaging a village full of innocents. However, this was the first time he had ever obsessed over one victim and set out to methodically destroy their life. It was a new experience for him, tearing down one wall at a time, making her safe little home into something of her worst nightmares. If the emotions pouring off her were any indication, nothing was safe for her anymore. Angelus smiled, pleased with his accomplishment thus far. It was about to become a whole lot worse._  
  
**************************  
  
 ** _Crawford Street Mansion, December 24, 1998_**  
  
“I’m so sorry,” Angel said hoarsely.  
  
He swallowed, trying to get past the lump in his throat. It was raw from pent up emotion. He was long past seeing just an apparition now. She was Drusilla through eyes blurred by unshed tears. She was a beautiful, watery vision sitting beside him. He had been visited by horrific memories over the years since he was cursed with his soul. But, Drusilla was . . . different. When he was Angelus last year, playing cat and mouse with Buffy and her friends was merely a way to relieve the boredom. Drusilla was a masterpiece, an obsession, his original sin.  
  
“You told me to apologize to Mummy,” Drusilla stated. “I went back home and did just that, but she ignored me. My Mummy wouldn’t speak to me. She shut me out while she dealt with Anna’s burial. I stood as an outcast through the funeral. I tried to repent to her, to Anna. I did what you told me and it got me nothing but scorn,” she said flatly.  
  
“Angelus wanted to hurt you, not me! I wouldn’t – didn’t do that. Please, Dru, what do you want from me? What do you want me to do?” Angel pleaded.  
  
Drusilla stared blankly at him, silent.  
  
“Answer me!” Angel yelled at the apparition.  
  
“What would you like me to say? The demon inside you created me,” Drusilla replied.  
  
Angel ground his teeth in frustration as he shuddered. Maybe she was his girl after all. She always talked circles around him. She was flawed in that respect. Maybe Angelus should have let her keep a small shred of sanity for coherency’s sake.  
  
“What did you do?” Drusilla urged, as she looked searchingly into his eyes. "Tell me what you did next. I want to hear how you would tell my story.”  
  
**************************  
  
 ** _St. Mark’s Catholic Church, London, 1860_**  
  
 _Midnight Mass was already in progress when Angelus silently entered the church and took a seat in the last pew. He glanced over at the adjacent row and several rows away sitting on the end was Drusilla with her head bowed, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. She sobbed louder whenever the cleric mentioned Anna’s name._  
  
 _It was interesting that even though the years changed, the Catholic religion was still the same no matter where you were in the world. As a human, he never put much stock in the power of prayer and God. All that God-fearing drivel his father used to drum into him never really took. The sanctimonious rules and laws were hypocrisy, and meant nothing to him now. He’d been a demon for 107 years and still dared a chance of hellfire for stepping foot on holy ground. Unlike crosses and holy water, and perhaps an earthquake, the holy building wasn’t going to harm him and the grounds wouldn’t open up to swallow him._  
  
 _Angelus took his eyes off a grieving Drusilla long enough to look at the body in the open coffin. Anna was faced toward the audience still wearing the black dress he had put on her with the added touch of a scarf around her neck to hide his bite marks. It’s just as well; the Victorian age was so sensitive about things such as murder and death. Yet, he had been around them in drawings rooms and parlors, attending lavish parties with Darla to know that what was seen in public were just a façade. Behind closed doors, the snobbish prigs were just as deviant as he was._  
  
 _Paying closer attention to the body, he noticed that in the well-lit church, Anna was a blonde replica of Drusilla. She looked just like her sister, but with blonde hair, the features looked plain on her, whereas, Drusilla had an exotic ethereal beauty. Smiling, Angelus got up and quietly left the church._  
  
 _A few days later, after they had buried Anna, Angelus took a stroll through the Kensal Green Cemetery until he found her grave. It was in a quaint part of the grounds, the tombstone was simple yet stylishly carved. A bouquet of roses rested in front of the marker. He took two of them and went on his way._  
  
 _Angelus made his way back to Drusilla’s house and climbed the trellis. Entering her bedroom, he carefully plucked the petals off the stem and arranged them on her vanity. Then, he pricked his finger, let the blood well up and wrote Anna’s name on her vanity mirror. With his excellent night vision, he examined his handiwork: the blood dripping down the mirror from Anna’s name to drip onto the red rose petals that were arranged to spell out Drusilla’s name. With each drop of blood, the petals got darker in color._  
  
 _Angelus caught a glimpse of a sleeping Drusilla in the mirror and turned around to look at her. Her brow was furrowed by her nightmares. In a mocking sense of tenderness, he went over to the bed and kissed her forehead. He stopped to scent her before disappearing out the window again._  
  
 _The next morning, Drusilla woke to the sight of the bloody name and screamed. The sound brought everyone to her door. She curled herself into a ball against the headboard and stared at her vanity in horror._  
  
 _Why was this happening to her now? Her visions were a danger to her family and her. The display on her vanity was a sign from God surely. He was punishing her for Sight that only He should have. She hurried to get dressed, not even looking at her Mum. She couldn’t face her Mum knowing she was the cause of the things that had occurred to them recently. Drusilla bowed her head, avoiding her Mum’s eyes when she walked past and left the house._


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rating – NC-17  
> Pairing – Angel(us)/Drusilla, Implied-Angelus/Darla)  
> Timeline – BTVS S3 AMENDS, missing scene.  
> Summary – AR. Takes place during AMENDS. Angel is haunted by Drusilla. A fresh, new, darkly erotic, and compelling look at how Angelus tormented Drusilla. He saw a butterfly, a gem of innocence and virginity, with the gift of Sight, and made his ambition to mold her. He took away everything she loved, her family, her innocence, her sanity, her life, and she was reborn . . .  
> WARNINGS: Mental Torture, Torment, Anguish, Minor Character Deaths, Violence, Dark Fic dealing with mental/emotional disintegration.

Title: Original Sin  
By Tami (tabrandt @ hotmail.com)  
Disclaimer: The characters from ATS / BTVS are owned by Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and Fox studios. This story is not meant to infringe upon anyone's rights, only to entertain.  
BETA: Myself, [](http://lexa4227.livejournal.com/profile)[**lexa4227**](http://lexa4227.livejournal.com/) , [](http://sevendeadlyfun.livejournal.com/profile)[**sevendeadlyfun**](http://sevendeadlyfun.livejournal.com/)  
Rating – NC-17  
Pairing – Angel(us)/Drusilla, Implied-Angelus/Darla)  
Timeline – BTVS S3 AMENDS, missing scene.  
Summary – AR. Takes place during AMENDS. Angel is haunted by Drusilla. A fresh, new, darkly erotic, and compelling look at how Angelus tormented Drusilla. He saw a butterfly, a gem of innocence and virginity, with the gift of Sight, and made his ambition to mold her. He took away everything she loved, her family, her innocence, her sanity, her life, and she was reborn . . .  
Feedback – It would be appreciated. My plot bunny has been lagging lately.  
Author's Note - This fic wouldn't been possible if it wasn't for the encouragement and support of two wonderful women and great friends, [](http://kidcyclone.livejournal.com/profile)[**kidcyclone**](http://kidcyclone.livejournal.com/) and [](http://users.livejournal.com/woman_of_/profile)[**woman_of_**](http://users.livejournal.com/woman_of_/) , and my wonderful betas [](http://kateyes085.livejournal.com/profile)[**kateyes085**](http://kateyes085.livejournal.com/) , [](http://lexa4227.livejournal.com/profile)[**lexa4227**](http://lexa4227.livejournal.com/) and [](http://sevendeadlyfun.livejournal.com/profile)[**sevendeadlyfun**](http://sevendeadlyfun.livejournal.com/).  
WARNINGS: Mental Torture, Torment, Anguish, Minor Character Deaths, Violence, Dark Fic dealing with mental/emotional disintegration.  
Word Count: 5,905

##  _Part 2_

  
  
**_Crawford Street Mansion, December 24, 1998_**  
  
Angel had moved back to the bedroom and lay on top of the covers during the tale. Drusilla’s apparition lay on her side next to him, her head propped up on her hand. She ran her fingertips over his chest and stomach and watched him shiver. Angel couldn’t feel the touch of fingers, just coolness on his skin. Everything about his Drusilla resembled how delicate she once was. She had slim hands with long, graceful fingers, tipped with French manicured talon-like nails.  
  
He groaned as he imagined what they had felt like grazing and scoring his flesh. The thought brought to mind how she looked during a state of arousal. Darla was a beauty to behold in her day. Buffy was fresh-faced innocence. Drusilla, his ripe, wicked, little girl, was gorgeous. All that full, rich, dark hair tumbled around her shoulders on the pillow, her big blue eyes peeking at him through lowered lids, her red lips parted on a moan. Her shapeless dresses hid the gentle curves of her body, and the swell of her plump breasts.  
  
Angel thought about how his childer looked. He discounted Penn on the grounds of early turning errors, Penn was into power and control, not so much for being in the family as using it for his own means, and Lawson was discounted because he wasn’t around long enough for Angel to have any influence on him.  
  
But, Spike and Drusilla were entirely different. His girl had the visions, classic features, and ethereal beauty with big, dark blue eyes, and pure, virgin innocence, headed toward being a nun, destined for sainthood before Angelus saw her. William was a beautiful human, troublesome vampire that he was. He had honey blonde hair, incredibly bright blue eyes, cheekbones that were as a sharp as a razor blade and went on forever, with a beautiful, well-muscled body hidden under his drab clothes. Yes, he chose his childer carefully. Seeing them together was always a striking image: his dark princess and light baby boy. They were both quick and deadly killers.  
  
Angel felt his cock harden at the thoughts running through his head and cursed. He was supposed to be damned and punished for his sins, not get excited over them.  
  
“You’re remembering what it’s like to be with me again. Even after you finished that part of the story, the thoughts of killing my sister still fresh in your mind. The way you tormented me, making me think I caused it, made you hard. Bloodshed always turned you on,” ‘Drusilla’ purred as her fingers trailed down over his crotch.  
  
Between the apparition’s words and the cool air seeping through his pants from her caress, Angel could barely suppress the groan that escaped.  
  
“You snuck into my room and left that calling card of blood and rose petals. Made me think it was a sign from God that I had indeed killed her.” The apparition leaned closer to Angel’s ear and whispered, “You also left other things didn’t you? You left a sketch of Anna in her coffin with her tombstone underneath it. Such a wicked Daddy you were.”  
  
“Dru, please!” Angel choked on a groan and swallowed hard.  
  
She was driving him mad. If she was real . . . if she was tangible, he’d flip her over and bury himself inside her, to hell with the curse. However, he didn’t think that fucking Drusilla would cause perfect happiness, but it’d take care of the ache in his loins.  
  
“Shh, Daddy. It’s just the beginning of the tale. Tell me more, show yourself for what you really are,” ‘Drusilla’ purred.  
  
**************************  
  
 ** _London, June, 1860_**  
  
 _Ah, the Fitzwilliam Coming Out Ball. He hated these things, but Darla wanted to go out tonight, so here he was. The second they got inside the house, Darla was off his arm and lost in the crowd. His Sire was always looking for a blue blood to feast on. She always wanted the notoriety without scandal._  
  
 _So, while his Sire was off hunting for a worthy kill, Angelus took to the sidelines and surveyed the gathering. Pompous socialites, dressed to impress their peers. He bet not a single one of them liked anyone else in this room. They were just here to observe their competition and be seen. It was a tiresome game; he’d take being a demon over it any day. It was simple: you hunt; you kill; occasionally adding to the ranks, and you move on._  
  
 _Angelus watched the crowd with a roving eye when he saw Drusilla’s family enter the room regally. He thought he’d be stuck here, bored, while Darla entertained her . . . appetite. As he watched his latest project enter the room, he had a feeling this night would prove to be interesting after all._  
  
 _Angelus slowly circled the throng while keeping a careful eye on Drusilla. She was nearly glued to her Father’s arm. He idly wondered if the man had any circulation left in the appendage. The small band started to play a song just as he approached them. Using the opportunity to make his presence known, he bumped into one of the girls, seemingly by accident and knocked her fan out of her hand._  
  
 _“Pardon me, miss,” Angelus apologized as he bent down to retrieve the fan._  
  
 _The girl smiled as she accepted the accessory from the stranger. “Thank you, kind sir.”_  
  
 _“Allow me to introduce myself, I’m Liam,” Angelus said giving a short bow._  
  
 _“Beatrice,” the young girl replied._  
  
 _Angelus made a show of kissing the back of her hand in greeting before saying, “Well, Beatrice, might I interest you in a dance?”_  
  
 _“You certainly may,” the girl replied before looking to her father for approval. When he gave it with a nod, Angelus escorted her to the dance floor._  
  
 _Drusilla watched curiously, as the stranger danced with her sister. She could have sworn she had seen him before. He was impeccably dressed and she couldn’t quite place him, but he looked so familiar. As the man twirled Beatrice around the floor, whispering in her ear and seeing her sister smile at something he said, images of the man and her sister flashed through her mind. Not wanting to cause a scene, Drusilla shook her head a bit, trying to clear it._  
  
 _After the dance was over, Angelus returned Beatrice to her family and smiled at Drusilla. Taking her small hand in his, he bowed and kissed the back of it. “Miss Drusilla, your sister was just telling me about you. I feel as though I know you already.”_  
  
 _Drusilla’s breath hitched in her throat. He knew about her? “One should not be so familiar upon a first meeting, sir,” she said._  
  
 _“Yes, you’ll have to excuse my boldness. It’s a shortcoming that I’m working on,” Angelus replied._  
  
 _Drusilla snatched her hand back and bowed her head to try to hide the red blush creeping into her cheeks. She was starting to feel uncomfortable, even more so than usual when at these functions. If she ever observed the opposite sex, she would say he was quite handsome. But, she was saving herself for the church and therefore took little interest in them outside of common courtesy._  
  
 _Angelus watched her behavior like a hawk. Her modesty was intriguing to say the least. It seemed that in mixed company she was the epitome of proper decorum. Anyone who saw her would never know that she was plagued by visions and nightmares. But, after months of tormenting her from afar, he knew what the family kept hidden behind closed doors._  
  
 _At that moment, Angelus felt Darla’s presence near and turned to see her impatiently waiting for him. He gave a silent acknowledgement and turned to his new acquaintances. “If you’ll excuse me, I must be going.” He nodded to the girls in turn and said, “Thank you for the dance. It was nice to meet you, Miss Drusilla. Sir, if you would allow it, I would love to call on your daughter soon.”_  
  
 _After the man agreed and they set a tentative date, Angelus took his leave and joined Darla on the way out of the gala. When they got to the street, Darla looked at Angelus strangely. “Whatever were you doing in there, dear boy?”_  
  
 _“What do you mean?”_  
  
 _“Normally at these functions, you would have killed four girls by the time I’m ready to leave. Yet, tonight I find you socializing with a gentleman and his 2 young daughters. Is that where you’ve been lately, courting those girls?” Darla asked as she entered a waiting carriage._  
  
 _“You have your pastimes, luv, and I have mine,” Angelus answered as he followed her._  
  
 _As the carriage lumbered down the street Darla asked, “So, why haven’t you killed them yet?” When he glanced at her, Darla went on, “I may be 251, Angelus; but, I’m still a vampire. I recognized the girl, the one with the visions. She was supposed to be a present.”_  
  
 _“One I’m enjoying quite thoroughly,” Angelus conceded._  
  
 _“Well, like any toy, they lose their newness and one has to move on,” Darla stated with a hint of jealousy._  
  
 _“I have plans for her; they’ve already been set in motion. All you have to do is sit back and watch my progress.” Angelus smiled and then leaned closer and proceeded to distract her with kisses._  
  
 _It took three weeks to placate Darla’s jealous streak over the amount of time he spent with his current obsession. He spent the time hunting with her, bedding her, staying underfoot until she grew tired of constantly tripping over him. In all that time, he thought about his next plan to terrorize the lovely Drusilla._  
  
 _Once Darla had grown weary of his company, Angelus set about his plan to court Drusilla’s sister. He would show up at her door and the family would entertain him over a dinner he barely touched, but only for appearance sake, and drinks afterward. Every time he stepped foot in the house he heard Drusilla’s heart beating faster than a rabbit. She was deathly afraid of him and rightly so, but her family took no notice of her response to the likeable man who was courting Beatrice._  
  
 _Angelus, or rather, Liam, visited the family every few days, playing up the act that he was really interested in Beatrice’s company. When he knew the family wasn’t looking his way, he stole glances at Drusilla. Every time she felt his eyes on her, he could hear her blood rush through her veins._  
  
 _He courted Beatrice for a few months, before the act started to become tiresome. The more he was around Drusilla, he had to have her . . . to possess her completely . . . obliterate her and make her his. Then, one night he caught her alone in the family’s small garden._  
  
 _“Isn’t late for you to be outside in the dark?” Angelus asked from the doorway. “There are all sorts of deadly predators lurking about.”_  
  
 _“It’s peaceful. No one bothers me out here. The stars speak to me sometimes,” Drusilla replied._  
  
 _Angelus stepped up behind her a breath away from touching her. “Is that so, and what do they tell you?”_  
  
 _“You do not appear as you seem. You frighten me. They tell me to stay clear of you, sir,” Drusilla said._  
  
 _Angelus placed his big hand on her pale shoulders and buried his nose in her hair, scenting her, whispering, “You know I can’t do that.” She smelled of jasmine and lavender, of pure innocence and cream virginity. He imagined that he could lick her all over and she’d taste of sweet vanilla._  
  
 _Angelus turned Drusilla to face him and backed her up against the ivy-covered wall. He caressed his fingers from her shoulder, over her chest and up to lightly curl around her slim neck. Angelus felt her pulse beat faster under his fingertips. He could smell her fear, but it was mixed with something else, a scent he knew intimately._  
  
 _Leaning closer, Angelus whispered, “You may fear me, sweet Drusilla, but you’re also excited by me.”_  
  
 _He pulled back a little to watch her eyes widen in realization of what his words meant. Angelus wasn’t surprised when she drew back and gave him a stinging slap. He had to give her credit for the small show of violence. When she wrenched away from him, Angelus smirked as he watched her gather her skirts and scurry back to the house._  
  
 _“There’s still time, but I won’t wait forever,” Angelus said to himself as he wiped a bit of blood from his cheek where her nails scratched him._  
  
 _Angelus strolled leisurely into the house. When he met Beatrice in the hall near the door, he kissed her formally on the cheek and made his goodbyes. She was a little disappointed to see him leave so soon._  
  
 _“Are you sure you have to go?” she asked with a hint of pleading._  
  
 _“Yes, I must. I shall see you soon,” Angelus reassured her._  
  
 _As he made his apologies, he watched Drusilla with a heated look in his eyes. A red blush stained her cheeks. She turned away and went to her room. With his fascination out of the room, he smiled pleasantly at Beatrice and took his leave._  
  
 _Angelus stayed in the shadows, leisurely smoking a cigarette as he waited for the lights inside the house to blink out, signaling that everyone was asleep. Then, he climbed the trellis to Beatrice’s room and silently entered through the window._  
  
 _Beatrice was sound asleep, just as Anna was before her. Angelus smirked at the sight of virtuousness; assured that she was safe and sound. He could hear Drusilla’s whimpers through the far wall. His darling girl was in the midst of another nightmare, probably envisioning the one that was about to take place in this very room._  
  
 _Angelus took his coat and shirt off, but left his pants on and then climbed into bed beside Beatrice. When she felt the dip in the bed, her eyes sprang open and stared at a bare-chested Liam. When she started to voice her shock, he covered her mouth with his hand._  
  
 _“Shh, you will not want to wake the whole house and bring everyone in here. What would they think of you with a man in your bed?” Angelus asked in mock concern._  
  
 _Beatrice stared at him with wide eyes and shook her head. No, she didn’t want to be part of a scandal. She had always been a good girl. She was bright and outgoing, which was the exact opposite of Drusilla. Her sister always acted strangely and wanted to be left to her own company. She’d never get a man that way. Which was an odd thing to think of at a time like this when Beatrice herself was confronted with a man in her bed._  
  
 _“Good girl,” Angelus said before sliding his free hand under the covers and proceeded to tease her body._  
  
 _Beatrice whimpered at the sensations Liam made her feel. Nothing like this had ever happened to her before. There were tingling nerves she didn’t know existed. Tears welled up in her eyes more from fear of the unknown than of Liam. The man she knew was kind and gentle. At the moment, he was also quite amorous._  
  
 _Years of learning how to please Darla worked at times like this. Angelus watched the girl’s face for reaction when he slid his hand down her quivering stomach to the coarse curls between her thighs. He grinned, showing blunt human teeth as she bowed under him when his fingers found the little nub that was hidden._  
  
 _Beatrice tried to speak past the palm covering her mouth. She tried to pull away; everything was too much for her senses. She was a virgin. She shouldn’t be doing this! Not before she was married! It simply wasn’t done . . . was it?_  
  
 _Beatrice pulled at Angelus’ hand, trying to stop him from his insistent probing of her sensitive, and embarrassing, body. She didn’t wish to make any noise. If anyone were to discover her in such a compromising situation, she would be ruined. As she struggled, one thought went through her mind, ‘this man is unaccountably strong.’_  
  
 _Angelus ignored her struggles and proceeded to enjoy the pleasures of her body. He heard the mumbled protests. He ignored those, too. As much as she objected to what he was doing to her, her body responded to him. It took longer than he thought, but finally, her body shuddered under him in orgasm. He withdrew his hand. The second her body relaxed, his face shifted, fangs gleaming silver in the moonlight, and he dove for her throat._  
  
 _The taste of her blood was like any other innocent virgin, but underneath he could taste the bitterness of her sibling rivalry with Drusilla, the sorrow from the loss of Anna, the excitement that he caused by climbing into bed with her. When he had drunk his fill, he pulled away and looked around the room, deciding the best place to leave a calling card._  
  
 _The next day around midmorning when Beatrice still hadn’t joined the family for the day’s activities, Drusilla went in to check on her. When she pushed the door open, it was like déjà vu. It was the same horrific scene from her dream. Beatrice’s body was posed as demurely as her nature. The bed had been stripped of the top sheet and blankets, displaying the virgin’s blood on the mattress. On the wall above the bed, underneath the mounted cross, written in blood with flecks of a mysterious white substance was the message: ‘A gift for God’._  
  
**************************  
  
 ** _Crawford Street Mansion, December 24, 1998_**  
  
He remembered killing Beatrice and displaying her like a sacrificial lamb. He squeezed his eyes shut against the gruesome image in his mind. ‘A gift for God’, really it was a gift for Drusilla. In his own way, Angelus showed that he wanted her by killing Beatrice to clear the path for his pursuit of the clairvoyant beauty. Angel shook his head to clear it as he moved to the other side of the bed, shrinking away from the apparition of Drusilla.  
  
“God, what he did to her. It was vulgar and morbid and Dru found that scene.” Angel curled into himself, holding on to the side of the bed and trembling as the images washed over him.  
  
The apparition crawled across the bed on its hands and knees, settling behind him. She nuzzled against his cheek, the cool air causing him to shiver and jerk away.  
  
‘Drusilla’ pressed on, whispering in his ear, “Yes. You made such a bloody tableau to be discovered in the harsh light of day.” She licked his cheek, but all he felt was cold, damp air.  
  
“Why didn’t you run from him – me then?” Angel asked on a shuddering breath.  
  
“You were a clever Daddy, never let anyone know that there was a sacrilegious murderer in our midst. You’re the monster all parents warn their sweet, little children about. You slaughtered two of my sisters in their own beds without anyone knowing until it was too late,” ‘Drusilla’ said. She looked down his body and smiled seductively before whispering, “You’re still hard. Such a deliciously sinful Daddy turned on by the thoughts of violence and blood. You could drive an innocent girl mad. Oh, wait. You did!”  
  
As Angel tried to get away from her, he fell off the side of the bed and hurriedly crawled to the adjacent wall. He shook his head in denial and repeatedly said, “No, n-n-no. I’m not like that any more. I have a soul damn it!”  
  
“Face up to what you are, my angel.” ‘Drusilla’ was perched on the side of the bed with her legs crossed. “You’re a demon . . . a killer . . . once you accept that, you’ll be at peace.” Angel blinked and ‘Drusilla’ was sitting before him again. “Embrace what you are.”  
  
“No, I can’t! If I do, it will kill everyone,” Angel said, shaking his head in denial.  
  
“What does it matter? You’re immortal. They’ll all die one day anyway. Why should they suffer any more than they have to?” ‘Drusilla’ asked.  
  
Angel remembered those words clearly. He said those very words when he taught a newly-turned Drusilla how to hunt and kill.  
  
**************************  
  
 ** _London, Early October, 1860_**  
  
 _It had been three days since they buried Beatrice. Friends of the family noted the short amount of time between Anna’s passing and Beatrice’s death. No one spoke the word ‘murder’. It was too ghastly to even think that someone in Kensal Green could be so evil as to murder two sweet girls and sisters at that. Everyone commented on the toll it must have taken on the surviving family members, noting Drusilla’s instability of late._  
  
 _With the thought that there could be a monster in their neighborhood, everyone took extra precautions. A community that felt so safe months before were now locking their doors and windows. The family themselves took extra measures, making sure the holy water font was full, crosses on every wall in the house, garlic over the doorways, and anything else their superstitious minds could think of._  
  
 _The death of her two sisters, and the subsequent ‘gifts’ that were left for her by the person responsible for them had caused Drusilla’s fragile mind to break down steadily. She was prone to nervous fits and talking to the moon, stars and angels that no one else could see. She would flee to the church at what her family considered to be odd times. In truth, she went every time a vision hit her. She would see the unknown monster closing in on her and replays of her sisters deaths._  
  
 _Drusilla stepped out of the church, wrapped the handmade, red velvet cloak tighter around her body, drawing the hood up against the fall chill. She looked up and down the street and hurried home. She hadn’t meant to stay out past sundown, it wasn’t safe with a serial killer running loose and targeting her family. She had stayed to confer with the Priest about joining the church as a nun at the Shrine of the Sacred Heart Convent a few miles away._  
  
 _She was so lost in thought that she startled when a man bumped into her. “Sorry miss. You should really be inside somewhere safe. Do you realize there’s a sunset curfew in effect?”_  
  
 _“Yes sir, I know. I’m going straight home now,” Drusilla said and went on her way._  
  
 _When Drusilla reached the house, went inside, and quickly shut the door. Pulling the hood of her cloak off her head, she unfastened it and hung it up. Then, she went into the family room where she stopped in her tracks. Her parents were propped up in their usual chairs by the fire, but they weren’t talking like they normally did before retiring for the night._  
  
 _Drusilla caught a glimpse of Claire, her youngest and only remaining sister, standing in the doorway. When she turned to speak to the 12-year-old, the girl moved aside to reveal Angelus._  
  
 _He stood behind Claire holding her up against him. His yellow eyes were watching Drusilla as he retracted his fangs from Claire’s neck and made a show of licking his lips clean of blood. She gasped at the sight of her sister’s limp body in the clutches of the monster from her visions sent her heart racing._  
  
 _“Ah, sweet Drusilla. Your family has been very hospitable to me in my grief over the death of your sister. How I miss her so,” Angelus said in mock regret and a mouthful of fangs._  
  
 _Drusilla startled again and felt her heart skip a beat or two. Oh, God! He was the killer. Why didn’t her Sight ever show her the face of the pariah killing her family one at a time? She thought she had done it, made to believe she was the cause of the deaths around her. She was surely next, she knew! Lord, she knew too much now. She had to find a way to get past him and get out of here!_  
  
 _Angelus watched Drusilla, curious to see how she would react. Gauging her chances of escape, Angelus watched with a practiced eye. He knew she would try to elude him. Amused, he watched her as her eyes wildly searched for her opening to get past him. He knew she couldn't, unless he let her. He also knew he would, he wasn't finished with his game yet._  
  
 _When she bolted past him and struggled with the door, he dropped the young girl in his arms and made a half-hearted attempt at snatching Drusilla’s skirts. As she yanked the door open and rushed outside, he lunged for her only to slam his hands against the doorframe narrowly missing her. Angelus watched Drusilla run off into the night and licked his lips like a hungry wolf. This was going to be fun._  
  
 _“I haven’t had a good chase in a long while. All that sweet, virgin blood pumping harder and faster with the adrenalin makes the blood thick. She’ll taste so good,” Angelus said to himself._  
  
 _Darla came out of the parents’ bedroom wearing a necklace and bracelet she had found. “What was that, dear?” she asked as she snapped the bracelet into place._  
  
 _Angelus turned and looked at his Sire. “You look lovely. Come Darla, we have prey to catch!”_  
  
 _Drusilla ran blindly out of town and kept going. She couldn’t stop. Her mind screamed at her to run faster, never stop. If she stopped, it would be the end. Don’t look back; the monster was coming for her. She ran as fast as her legs could carry her. She hoped she was going in the direction of the church. Lord, she hoped so. She hadn’t realized it was so far away when one was desperate. She couldn’t be stuck out in the middle of nowhere in the dark, praying for daybreak. He would surely kill her then._  
  
 _“God, please help me!” Drusilla cried as she ran. She had to find shelter before her tired legs gave out. She lost track of how long she ran; everything was lost in the dark. Her family was gone, her home. Nothing left. Have to keep running or die._  
  
 _Then a light came into view like a port in a storm. She prayed to God and willed her legs to stay under her as she made her way to toward the light that slowly turned into the shape of the church. When she was close enough, she threw herself the door and pounded on it incessantly until it opened to an elderly priest._  
  
 _“Please, Father! You have to grant me asylum. Someone is after me, he killed my Mummy and Daddy and little Claire. He’s killed them all!” Drusilla said fearfully._  
  
 _“Of course, child. Come in,” the Priest said as he allowed her to enter._  
  
 _Drusilla stepped inside and immediately grabbed his wrist. “Please, I need to find sanctuary away from here. He knows where I live, who I am. I’m not safe here.”_  
  
 _“Yes, child, but, it’s too late to go tonight. I’ll take you to Shrine of the Sacred Heart tomorrow,” the priest assured her as he escorted her to a room._  
  
 _Outside the doors, Angelus listened to every word. He knew the Shrine was a convent a few miles away. He went back to where Darla waited for him. He could linger a day longer._  
  
 _The next day found Drusilla at the convent and accepted warmly into the Sisters care. It was warm and she felt safer here than she had in months. She could finally relax after being a nervous wreck ever since Anna died. She visibly calmed as the Sisters showed her to her sleeping quarters and made it clear that she wanted to join them in their duty to God._  
  
 _That night as Angelus was determined to get to the convent, Darla wasn’t so sure that he was in his right mind. She still didn’t know why he hadn’t killed the girl yet. So far, all he’d done for the past year is toy with her. If it were Darla, she’d be done with it by now._  
  
 _“What is so special about this girl that you go out of your way to torment her, dear boy?” Darla asked they drew closer to the convent._  
  
 _“I can’t explain it. There’s something about her that I want to possess,” Angelus replied._  
  
 _Inside the convent, Drusilla was beginning to enjoy her new role. The tapestries and statues of the Saints calmed her nerves to an extent. She would reach up and clutch the cross around her neck for reassurance. However, the emotional plunge from the terror she had endured the past year made her cry, in relief that she survived, and sorrow for the family she had lost. She was still seeing the unknown monster in her mind. She couldn’t say he was unknown now, could she? He had a face of an angel and the mind of a killer. Even behind fortress-like walls and the safety the nuns provided, she could still feel him. She knew he still had plans for her._  
  
 _Drusilla lay on her bunk, willing herself to finally give into the exhaustion she had felt for so long and sighed when blissful sleep finally came. She didn’t think it was long before she was jolted awake by the sound of multiple voices screaming. She got out of bed, went to the door and peeked out into the hall. That was when she saw several nuns running for their lives, screaming for God to save them._  
  
 _Drusilla’s eyes widened when she saw a blonde female demon whose face resembled that of the male monster that killed her family. She silently backed into her room and shut the door. Running to the corner and crouching between the wall and her bed, she held her hands over her ears, squeezed her eyes shut and rocked back and forth, mumbling the Protection Prayer to herself._  
  
 _When she heard the demon’s voice on the other side of the door call out for her, her fear went up another notch and she squeezed her fingers on the cross around her neck until her nails sliced into her palms prayed harder. As the demon entered her room and stared at her in human guise as her visions had warned her, she switched to another prayer._  
  
 _‘Hail Mary, full of grace; the Lord is with Thee: blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death,” she mumbled repeatedly._  
  
 _When he heard the Hail Mary cross Drusilla’s lips, the demon smirked at the irony in it. He knew the prayer well. Darla taught him to be prepared and if he was going to target convents as killing fields, he’d best know what he was attacking._  
  
 _Angelus sat on the edge of Drusilla’s writing table and stared at her. She cowered in the corner, repeating the prayer and crying. At this point, he knew she was too far gone. He had breached everything in her life, save her virginity for the moment. She was senselessly babbling, lost in her own mind, crying her sisters’ names. Just then, Darla stumbled into the room, having caught up with him._  
  
 _“Hello, luv,” Angelus greeted her without turning around._  
  
 _Darla wrapped her arms around his shoulders and smiled. “We made quite a mess out there, blood and habits everywhere.”_  
  
 _Angelus finally looked at his Sire and said, “Convents, they're just a great big cookie jar.”_  
  
 _As they kissed, Drusilla looked up as if she finally noticed they were in the room and sobbed, “Black sky. It wants a little wormy me.”_  
  
 _Angelus and Darla broke apart and looked over at the sobbing girl._  
  
 _Drusilla stared back at them with anguished eyes, but all she saw were her sisters’ corpses. “No. No. Make it stop!”_  
  
 _“I thought you killed her already,” Darla said annoyed._  
  
 _“No. Just her family and everyone she’s held dear,” Angelus clarified. He pushed Darla down on the floor and rolled on top of her._  
  
 _Drusilla shrank away from them and tried to mold herself against the wall. “Eyes like arrows – like – like needles.”_  
  
 _Angelus looked over at the girl. She was still beautiful, even with her hair in disarray and her mind completely lost. He leaned down to kiss Darla._  
  
 _Drusilla’s eyes shifted to watch them and sobbed, “Snake in the woodshed. Snake in the woodshed. Snake in the woodshed! Snake in the woodshed!”_  
  
 _Darla rolled Angelus over so that she was now on top. “So are we going to kill her during, or after?”_  
  
 _Angelus sat up, startling her. “Neither. We turn her into one of us. Killing is so merciful at the end, isn't it? The pain has ended.”_  
  
 _Darla’s brow furrowed in confusion at this. “But to make her one of us? She's a lunatic.”_  
  
 _Angelus glanced over at the catatonic, mumbling girl. “Eternal torment.” He grabbed Darla’s arms and rolled over so that he was on top with her under him, nearly on top of Drusilla. “Am I learning?” Before she could answer, Angelus swooped down and kissed Darla while Drusilla laughed hysterically at first and then cried._  
  
**************************  
  
 ** _Crawford Street Mansion, December 24, 1998_**  
  
Angel cried hard as sobs wracked his body. At some point during the story, he had moved back into the living room. He was currently lying on the floor, curled into a ball, crying as the memories assaulted his brain.  
  
“I’m so sorry, Dru,” he said through hard sobs that threatened to tear out his chest. “I . . . I knowingly did this to you. I deliberately caused you so much pain and grief. Angelus was the monster you believed him to be, and you were so beautiful and pure and he – I did unspeakable acts to drive you over the brink. Such a masterpiece of how fragile the mind really is and I ruined you for the convent, in the eyes of the church and God and damned you to a life with nothing but death and blood and –. Why didn’t you hate me as Spike does?”  
  
“Spike doesn’t hate you,” ‘Drusilla’ said. It was the first words she’d said since the story ended.  
  
Angel ignored her, lost in his remorseful thoughts. He shook his head in denial and watched her with sightless eyes. “What I did to you, how much I destroyed you. I used to wake in the night screaming at the memories, reliving it in my head. I could never forget. I regret how I have left you with what little stability you have in your mind.”  
  
Angel closed his eyes and let the tears come as the events surrounding Drusilla's demise unfolded in his mind. The ghost of Drusilla looked disgusted at the trembling figure. It had pushed too far. Instead of destroying him, or even better, bringing Angelus back, it had merely left the vampire broken. It would have to find another way to gain the desired results, even if _It_ had to modify _Its_ current plans.


End file.
